Spit happens, so why not celebrate the gift of the gob?

It's that time of year. Early March and grey skies, sopping tops and catarrhal snorts, and football's hardcore spitters are back in action. At the Reebok on Sunday, as Liverpool beat Bolton, you could barely move for grodies. Anyone who was anyone was giving good gob. There was Kevin Davies releasing a mighty mouthful, Steven Gerrard dropping one with aplomb; and of course El Hadji Diouf. Where the phlegm is flying, rest assured that Diouf won't be far behind.

Thankfully, we are not talking face spitting - the ultimate insult. No, this was common-or-garden orifice-clearing.

It struck me as an absurd question. "Footballers have always spat, do you know nothing, girl? Did you never see Ipswich striker Paul Mariner release one of the mightiest footballing flobs of all time, leading to the comedy sketch Gob of the Day?" I was tempted to say.

But I restrained myself. Berating her for not knowing her flobbing history was unfair. So I contemplated the question objectively. I play football and none of us spit, despite the fact that we are old and exhausted and carrying excess liquid. Cricketers tend not to spit, however knackered they are. Batsmen are likely to get phlegm caught in their grille, and to have it dribble slowly down is undignified. The only cricketer I ever saw spit was Ian Botham but a) he had the mentality of a footballer and b) I might be fantasising.

I have never seen Tiger Woods spit, in delight or anger. Tennis players don't spit, but I wouldn't put it past Andy Murray to start a fashion. (Congrats on beating Federer by the way, though I still think you're rude.)

Then there are the indoor sports. Could you imagine Ronnie O'Sullivan bemoaning a miss by gobbing on the floor of the Crucible? Or Phil "the Power" Taylor releasing a huge dobber after a 180? It wouldn't be right. It would be unsporting; gamesmanship - next thing you know, Kevin "the Artist" Painter would go flying on the slippery surface.

On practical grounds, the indoor/outdoor dichotomy makes sense. But on moral grounds, I don't get it. Why is it decent to spit on grass but indecent on man-made surfaces?

In 2006 Keep Britain Tidy launched a campaign against spitting footballers, labelling them "morons who have made this filthy habit appear macho". They were cited, perhaps unfairly, as the main reason Britain feared a Sars outbreak and had experienced a rise in TB rates.

Diouf's spit at defender Arjan de Zeeuw in 2004 received 75% of the vote as "the grossest thing they've ever seen on a football pitch". No2 in Keep Britain Tidy's gross-out charts was Manchester United's Brian McClair placing a finger on his nostril, flute-like, then blowing snot out of his other - so close to a spit that we'll count it as one. Third was Sir Alex Ferguson spitting chewing gum out during matches. Keep Britain Tidy backed up its case with salient data: only dog mess and litter annoys Britons more than spitting, councils spend £4.5m a year unsticking gum, and punk princess Siouxsie Sioux caught conjunctivitis after a fan spat in her eye.

All good points. But what Keep Britain Tidy failed to acknowledge was that true quality spitting can be an art and a sport in itself, as recognised in the short film The Great O'Grady about the tragic rise and fall of a fictional spitting champion.

Many of us have whiled away hours spitting cherry pips or chewing gum into a conveniently located bin. Indeed, cherry pit spitting is a sufficiently recognised sport to be in the Guinness Book of Records - 100ft 4in, seeing you ask, held by Young Gun Krause, son of former record holder Pellet Gun Krause.

In the right place at the right time, spitting transcends the prosaic. At the show Afrika! Afrika! one man, who shall be known as the Great Expectorator, miraculously transformed his own saliva into a Victoria Fountain of spit. A symphony in sputum. It was awe-inspiring. Which takes me back to Bolton v Liverpool. This was gob for gob's sake - abject and wholly unpleasant. Of course, footballers don't need to spit, but if they insist on doing so perhaps we should insist on a better standard. Rather than complaining about the quantity of spit on our football pitches, we should focus on the quality.

Youtube has caught some of the game's masters of mucus in action - Michael Doyle spitting in stereo through his teeth, Richard Jobson's herculean nose explosion, Freddie Eastwood's graceful parabola. And these aren't even Premier League players. Surely in an age when we pay £40 plus to attend "top" matches, we can expect a Victoria Fountain from El Hadji Diouf.

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